shower in daisies

He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not.

The blossoms of the daisy tell me what I already know. He does not love me and I am not surprised – not even disappointed. How can someone like him love me, If I cannot come up with enough reasons to love myself?

He loves me not. I love me not. He loves me not. I love me not.

Too many flaws and imperfections to count. He is unreachable in the void and on the pedestal he is looking down at me from. I seek the validation – the external kind.

I tell myself once there is enough love pouring in from the outside, it will be justified to love myself. 

He loves me. I love me not. He loves me. I love me not.

Used to getting barely sufficient love. Accepting the love I think I deserve – close to none. He is black and white, hot and cold – but I stay. 

He loves me – just not enough yet. I love me not – but maybe one day. I love him.

I overpour every ounce of my love onto him, hoping for reciprocity. I wait in vain.

He loves me not. He loves me not. He loves me not. He loves me not.

Why do I not deserve the love I give away so easily for myself? Why can I not shower in the overflowing love I offer? Why is it not enough for me?

I love me, not yet – but maybe one day I will.